


In Times Past, You Were Mine

by rubyisarbitrary



Category: The Chronicles of Alice and Ivy - Kellyn Roth
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Ivy and Jordy aren't a couple, This Is Sad, Unhappy marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27989559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyisarbitrary/pseuds/rubyisarbitrary
Summary: Just a canon divergence if any original ending of Beyond Her Calling had played out *shrugs*
Relationships: George "Jordy" McAllen/Ivy Chattoway McAllen, Ivy Chattoway McAllen/Original Male Character, Violet Angel/George "Jordy" McAllen





	In Times Past, You Were Mine

December 1897  
London, England

Jordy straightened his suit in the bedroom mirror then turned sideways. Didn’t appear to be anything untucked, unraveled, or misbuttoned, but it was so hard to tell. He simply wasn’t used to playing the dapper gentleman.  
At last, he gave up looking for imperfections and headed down the stairs. The house was dark and quiet—Felix’s home always seemed ghostly, almost ethereal.  
“There you are.” Violet appeared out of the shadows, strutting like a peacock. She knew she looked nice in her dress, the same color as her name—all the more reason to ignore her completely.  
“No’ tae late?”  
“No, not yet.”  
He glanced around. “No Felix?”  
“He’s already in the carriage.” She gestured toward the door. “Shall we go?”  
Jordy shrugged. “Do I look a’right? No one tae check.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to warble. He really hadn’t, and honestly, he hadn’t expected it. It’s been almost ten years. Get it together, man.  
It was hard, though, because he’d not come back to London in ten years. This house, where he’d stayed the last time, brought back too many memories for comfort.  
Violet’s eyes softened. Her ability to feel empathy had somehow begun to grow since Amelia … well, it had begun to grow.  
Of course she’d had her moments when she’d practically kicked Jordy when he was down—that’s what it had felt like, at least—but they’d adjusted. And re-adjusted. And she’d followed him around and actually pretended to like Hugh and Mattie, which was something.  
“You look fine. But your cravat’s three years out of fashion.”  
“I don’t care.” Being fashionable was not his main concern and never would be. “Let’s go.”

The lecture hall was packed, and Jordy gloried in the noisy crowded mess of it all. It was a welcome distraction that made his mind jump to catch all the sights and sounds and smells.  
Violet eased closer to him and took his arm. “Can we just go backstage?”  
“I want tae be in th’ crowd for a bit,” Jordy said. “See what kind o’ people I’m lecturin’ tae.” It was the only thing that made this whole thing interesting besides people’s shocked faces when he proclaimed mental health a pressing concern in the nation.  
“Well, I, for one, am going.” Felix made a beeline for the back. To Jordy’s surprise, Violet didn’t immediately follow him. She must be going through another clingy phase, God help him. Jordy didn’t exactly want Violet out of his life, but he didn’t want her in it.  
His eyes skidded around the patrons walking past, taking in all the people. Aye, it had been a long time—but the excitement of the crowd, the buzz of conversation, still spiked his pulse, still made him excited to stand at the podium at the front.  
“A’right, let’s go tae th’ back,” he said.

*****

Ivy Graham dug her fingers into the arms of the chair she sat on. She wanted to hold her husband’s hand, but he had them folded in his lap over the program he held, and she didn’t like to push.  
She knew by now that if Andrew wanted to hold her hand, he would have taken it.  
“You seem tense.”  
She glanced sideways at him, forcing her muscles to relax. “I’m not.”  
Andrew nodded and returned his eyes to the podium.  
She was tense, though, and Andrew could never understand why. First because Andrew didn’t know about him. Didn’t know how close their relationship had gotten—only that they had been friends, years ago, when Ivy was quite young.  
Second, because he wouldn’t acknowledge the hold such feelings could take on a person even if she tried to explain them. Andrew wasn’t one for strong feelings. He never had been. He would think that love—and the pain inspired by denying love—was a choice that Ivy got to make.  
It wasn’t a choice. Not for Ivy.  
She was only grateful it had been a choice for him. After all, she’d been the one causing the pain in a roundabout way, even if it was really no one’s fault. Ivy was glad he’d been able to move on.  
Even if that, too, had ended in tragedy. She winced but decided to focus on what she had came here to do—and that was listen to a lecture, support his dream, and move on.  
Then he walked up on the stage, crossed to the podium, his stride still the same. He was wearing a suit—she hadn’t seen him dressed so formally before—and his hair was slicked back.  
She swallowed. She could get through this without giving away what she still felt. What she shouldn’t feel anymore at the thought of him. Hadn’t she hidden this away long ago?  
Then he spoke. He was hiding his brogue, he kept his words smooth and regulated, but that same passion was there.  
He did still care. Not about her, of course, but about McCale House and about people like her.  
And maybe, that was enough. Enough to carry her through the rest of her life, even though his love had not lasted as long as hers. Even though he didn’t care about her any more.

*****

The lecture concluded. The entire audience clapped. Jordy took a few questions then stepped off the stage.  
“That was all right. I took notes.” Felix fumbled with an armful of papers. “I-I’ll put them in your briefcase.”  
“Thank ye. I’ll remember tae give them a look-over before th’ next lecture.” Felix was wonderful at keeping all of Jordy’s thoughts organized, as he’d been when Jordy had done a lecture series ten years ago.  
Jordy left Felix and Violet behind to go mingle with the crowd. That had been his favorite part of the lecture before—a chance to meet the people he’d been monologuing to.  
He made his way in at the back, nodding to those making their way out. Then he heard it.  
“Andrew, could we stay a moment? I might … I might like to speak to him.”  
“Hmm?” An upper class English accent, a deep voice, a bit surprised. “I thought he was just an acquaintance.”  
“Yes, but I’d like to congratulate him. He did well.”  
Jordy stood still for a moment, too shocked to move, then he turned. There she was, speaking to a man who was taller than Jordy. The man had blond hair, wore a neatly-cut suit, and stood with his back to Jordy.  
As Jordy turned, he caught her eye—and she went pale. She might’ve wanted to see him, but it had still surprised her.  
Perhaps she hadn’t changed as much as he’d imagined she must have when he heard she’d married an upper middle class English businessman. It hadn’t seemed like her.  
Yet her face was remarkably the same. It had been fifteen years since he’d seen her, but her eyes were still as blue and her hair as golden. And her mouth as perfect a round “o” in shock.  
He smiled, for he must, and started forward. She eased to the side, and her husband turned.  
“Oh, there’s the chap now.” Every word he spoke made his class and nationality crystal clear. “Dr. McAllen.”  
“Hello.” His eyes flickered down to the still-speechless Ivy. He raised his eyebrows and jerked his head toward her husband.  
This called her to her senses. She turned to the man beside her. “Andrew, this is my … my old friend, Dr. George McAllen—Dr. McAllen, my husband, Mr. Andrew Graham.”  
He shook hands with Jordy. There was no defensiveness in his face—he might not know, or if he did, he was a more confident man than Jordy had ever been.  
“My wife and I must leave soon, as I’ve an early morning, but we were so glad to be able to attend one of your lectures. Ivy enjoyed it, I believe.”  
She jerked her head up and down in a quick nod.  
Andrew Graham then offered a few inanities while Ivy blinked helplessly and Jordy did his best to remain pleasant. Graham was a nice enough fellow, if a bit boring, and he seemed to take a liking to Jordy.  
Graham cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, I’m having a dinner party for a few business partners tomorrow night. You will come, won’t you?”  
Jordy hesitated. Is that what Ivy wanted? Her face gave him no clue. Yet it would be nice to see her again, see where she’d ended up. “Aye, I’d be honored.”

*****

Ivy spent the next twenty-four hours trembling with nerves. She tried to go through her daily routine with no hesitation, but it was so very hard.  
Now it was so close to when the guests would be arriving. She tiptoed into the nursery.  
Nanny Easton would be keeping them all in line now, and their system of governesses and other help insured that Ivy would never have to lift a finger to raise her children.  
She sighed, shoving aside her longing to be so much more than a figurehead as she eased the door open and peaked in. Her two youngest, the twins, sat on Nanny Easton’s lap, their heads slumping against her shoulders as she read them a bedtime story.  
On their matching beds across the room, Violet Alice and Nora Claire were already tucked in, listening to the story, too.  
So well-behaved, the four of them. How beautiful they were. She eased the door the rest of the way open, even though she felt guilty, as always, for interrupting their routine.  
It was silly to feel guilty, but she couldn’t help it. After all, didn’t Andrew always tell her not to fuss? Not to get involved? She’d had the babies—now she could rest and let the help take care of them.  
When Ivy stepped in, Charles Walter and Callum Andrew’s heads jerked up, and they both shrieked, “Mum!” in unison. They scrambled off their nanny’s lap and ran to her, plowing into her skirts with all the energy two four-year-olds could contain.  
She knelt to plant kisses in their blond ringlets and exclaim over their preciousness and then urged them to return to Nanny Easton—she hadn’t meant to interrupt … just to see how they were.  
“That’s all right, Mrs. Graham.” Nanny Easton rose. “I’m sure they’re more than happy to see you.”  
Yet Ivy still felt the guilt at interrupting the quiet calmness of their nightly routine. She would’ve hated that as a child—absolutely hated it. And yet she couldn’t resist every so often, even though she wanted to respect her husband’s decision to limit her contact with her children.  
She went to sit on the edge of one of the twins’ beds and cuddled them close. Her daughters rushed over to sit next to her, and she once again felt the grief of her lack of confidence around her children.  
Ivy loved them, but loving someone and being capable of taking care of them were two very different things.  
“Mum, do you have a dinner party this evening?” Nora Claire touched Ivy’s diamond necklace lightly with her fingertips. “You look so pretty.”  
“Thank you, Nora Claire. We are having a dinner party.” One that was sure to be awkward. She didn’t at all know how he’d behave—she hadn’t ever seen him in a formal situation.  
She’d spent the last nine years learning how to behave in social situations. Jordy had not. She’d spent the last nine years struggling through dull dinner party after anxiety-inducing ball after stressful conversation.  
Jordy would probably enjoy the social element, even if he was a bit too Scottish to quite fit in. She still wished she had his ability to charm a crowd. Andrew so wanted her to step into that spot. He’d married her believing that she could learn.  
She hadn’t. And the shame was almost more than she could bear.  
Yet she had a place here, a home, and a life. Even if she wasn’t sure what to do with herself during the day, echoing about the big house with nothing to do. However, she was sure, given a few more years, she could figure that out, too.  
She helped Nanny Easton tuck the children into bed then slipped out. She’d be wanted downstairs to greet guests in a moment, and Andrew believed in being right on time, always.  
And she believed in pretending it wasn’t exhausting to make sure she was on time but not too early, day in and day out.  
Still, Ivy cast a longing glance over her shoulder. She’d rather stay in the nursery, watch them sleep, and pretend she was normal and could care for them like any other mother. Like her mother. Like her sister, her friends who had children …  
She shook off the negative thoughts. Tonight had enough troubles without her creating new ones. After the last guest had gone, she’d let herself stew on insufficiencies—she had a job to do first.

*****

Ivy had married well.  
His eyes swept there way up the tall house on a street reserved for the wealthy, took in the little flourishes in design that spoke of elegance and old money.  
She’d done better with this Graham fellow than she ever would have with Jordy. Despite her natural awkwardness, which Jordy doubted she’d ever shake, it was clear who had still managed to come on top.  
He’d thought her mad when she rejected him. There was too much between them—they were too much in love—and she couldn’t be right, that they would not get on.  
They still didn’t know how their marriage would’ve gone, but now they knew what had happened to each of them when they were apart. Aye, Ivy had done well for herself.  
So had Jordy, in a way. Done better than he deserved—but it sadly hadn’t lasted. He sighed and walked up the steps.  
He was ushered into a grand foyer, and there she was, that golden smile being bestowed on some balding businessman who was speaking to her just inside the entrance to the drawing room.  
That man didn’t deserve that amount of attention, but Ivy could never leave anyone out. Not even when she herself felt as insecure as she must feel.  
Unless, as he had supposed, she had changed.  
Ivy glanced to the side, her eye caught his, and color flooded her cheeks. Yet she turned back to her guest, said something with the tiniest toss of her head and a smile, the gentleman chuckled. When had she learned to do that? Who had taught her to do that? Why wasn’t it him? It should have been him.  
“Dr. McAllen!” Andrew Graham walked across the room. “I’m so glad you came. Ivy will be glad to see you.” He gestured to his wife, and she scurried over. Of course she did.  
“It is good to see you, Dr. McAllen.” Regulated, controlled. Had she practiced that in the mirror or was it natural? He couldn’t tell the difference anymore. Not certainly.  
“I’m glad tae be here, Mrs. Graham.”

*****

The evening was going to last forever.  
She had Jordy here, but it was still just a boring dinner. He was being as lively as one could be, getting everyone interested in his work, but there was only so much he could do with these people.  
Ivy did love Andrew. She did. But his friends were just so dull. They had their dull businesses and their dull clubs and their dull wives … Oh, it was so cruel of her to even think it! She could never say it. But it was true.  
Couldn’t they speak of anything with any amount of excitement? There was just no passion to their conversations.  
She raised her eyes from her plate with a little sigh, and a pair of golden-tinged eyes met hers.  
His eyebrows arched, and a bit of a smirk appeared around his lips. Irresistibly, a smile consumed her own mouth. Laughter filled his eyes, and he jerked his head toward the door.  
She tilted her head back. What did he mean? They were still eating dinner—well, soon they’d be done, and she’d leave with the rest of the ladies to the drawing room while the men stayed behind and drank their port and chatted about politics …  
Oh. That wasn’t far away, was it?  
Again, he gestured subtly toward the door then flickered his eyes toward her husband and back to her with a slight tilt of his head. He mouthed the words just to talk. Or at least that was what she thought he was saying.  
No. She couldn’t disappear with him, even just to talk. He was right to think of Andrew—her husband needed her to be a hostess. She couldn’t just disappear.  
Again, the motion. She glanced sideways at her husband. Well … maybe for just a moment. He must want to catch up. She confessed there wouldn’t really be time for that unless they made time.  
She nodded. They would do it.

Half an hour later, she slipped away from the ladies at her first chance and walked into the hallway. For a moment she wondered if she’d misunderstood Jordy, but he emerged from the shadows.  
“There ye are.” He grinned. “Wasna tha’ borin’? I tried, Vee—I did. But what could I do?”  
She smothered a chuckle. “I acknowledge that a lot of Andrew’s business partners aren’t terribly interesting.”  
“They’re no’ interestin’ at all.” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “It really is good tae see ye, though. I’d wondered … well, I’ve no’ ken’t how ye’ve been, an’ I like tae see tha’ ye’re happy.”  
She kept herself from bristling and saying something like, ‘why wouldn’t I be happy?’ because that might seem overly defensive. “Yes. And you … well, you’re still in Keefmore when you’re not traveling, aren’t you?”  
He hesitated. Perhaps he wondered why she knew? Had Violet mentioned that she asked after him whenever she could think a way to word it without sounding desperate? “Aye. Still in Keefmore. Me … me bairns …” He swallowed. “They’re with me parents now, but I try tae keep a home for them there. So they dinna have tae always be moving.”  
“Oh.” She nodded. “You’ve … two.” Again, she felt herself blushing. She knew too much, but she couldn’t help it.  
“Aye, Hugh an’ Mattie. Well, Margaret, but I’ve always called th’ wee lass Mattie. Huh’s thirteen noo—almost a man, I tell him. An’ Mattie’s eleven—which I say is tae old for me youngest, but I canna stop her from shootin’ up like a weed.” He beamed, and the pride and affection in his words was palpable.  
“I see. Mine … I’ve the four.” She again hesitated, not sure how much he knew, but she might as well volunteer the information. “Violet Alice and Nora Claire are eight and six, and then I’ve the twin boys, Charles Walter and Callum Andrew. They’re only four, but they’re … well, they’re all very clever.” Not at all like their mother. And she was glad.  
“Aye.” He nodded. “What do ye call them, then?” Something twinkled in his eyes, and she had an idea that she was being teased.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, all o’ those names are a mouthful, Vee! Surely ye dinna call them tha’. An’ how must it be tae call a wee lass Violet?” He shuddered. “What could you call her? Violet Alice … that could be Val, Ally, Vi, Letty …”  
“Oh, heavens, Jordy, not everyone needs a nickname.” A giggle appeared from some long-neglected gleeful part of her soul, and she let it spill out. “I call them Violet Alice, Nora Claire, Charles Walter, and Callum Andrew. Those are their names, after all!”  
Jordy shook his head emphatically, still smiling. “Well, if I ever have th’ pleasure o’ meetin’ them, Vee, it’ll be Letty, Nori, Charlie, and Cal.”  
“They won’t know who they are!” She coughed. “I mean, well, they won’t know what you mean calling them those names.”  
“I ken.” He shrugged. “I’ll do it anyway. But ye’re no’ th’ only one who wouldn’t choose tae nickname on yer own—Mila …” He hesitated. “Amelia. Amelia was me wife, an’ she didn’t see th’ need, either, but I convinced her. All save poor Hugh—I wasna allowed tae call him Huey. Which is quite sad, if ye ask me.”  
“I see.” She didn’t know how to respond to that. Her mind was circling over the pet name like a vulture—Mila. He’d called his wife Mila. How he’d fought for that nickname, when he could have called her Amy or Millie so much easier!  
She realized then that he’d been calling her “Vee,” and she should correct him. Yet she wasn’t sure she had the strength to do that. She might never see him again, after all—might never hear “Vee” again.  
She’d missed it more than she knew was possible.  
Ivy remembered then that there were people nearby, a great deal of them, and no matter how innocent their intents, it wasn’t wise to stand here, where anyone could walk out and see them standing alone in the dim hallway.  
“Jordy, would you like to go for a walk?” she asked before her mind could second guess it, while her heart was still controlling her impulses and doing things she wasn’t sure she wanted to do.  
“Aye.” The speed with which he answered said he hadn’t thought about it either. And—she glanced toward the door to the dining room again—she didn’t care.  
One night. She wouldn’t do anything immoral; she’d just speak with an old friend. What was the harm in that?

*****

They walked slowly down the street. Upper class houses were revealed by the street lamps, and it was a surprisingly pleasant night.  
Far pleasanter than that night ten years ago.  
Jordy shook that thought away. It wasn’t time to think about that night, the night when he’d held his wife as the last breath left her body. It wasn’t time to think about holding a one-year-old little girl tight while she screamed for her mother. It wasn’t time to worry over a three-year-old boy who had been made to comprehend death so young.  
He was here, with Ivy, and he might never see again. Tonight was a night for tonight. For risks. For excitement. For seeing what remained …  
She was chattering about inanities, something he’d never known her to do before. She said something about the weather then skittered to chattering about flowers in her garden next without allowing him a moment to reply.  
She was raising roses, apparently. Her husband had brought her a rose when he proposed, and she had “bushes and bushes” of them behind her house. But she missed the country—she blushed when she said that and quickly changed the subject.  
Oh, Vee, dinna be ashamed o’ missin’ th’ country, o’ all things tae be ashamed o’! Make yer husband take ye there …  
But he didn’t know the situation, so he didn’t vocalize the thought.  
They walked until the found a small park and a bench, and they sat there, and Ivy asked him about his family. He told her they were well—all fine, most of them married.  
Ben was still a bachelor—Mick and Liam had married and had children. His sister and Tristan had all boys, and she was driven insane by them, but she loved it. Oh, she’d not kept in contact with Ena? Well, Ena was just fine. A grandmother now, and proud of it! Aye, it was strange how a friend of Ivy’s could be a grandmother … Ena had eight living children now, too.  
“Oh, that’s nice.” Ivy beamed and rocked back in the seat. “I think she wanted that many, too. So did I … once.” Her face darkened, and she began to change the subject.  
“Why dinna ye have tha’ many? I mean, ye could get close.” He did a little arithmetic—she was thirty-five now, and there was no reason she shouldn’t have at least a few more babies. She might fit in another four.  
Ivy shook her head. “We’re finished. We’ll just have the ones we have. And anyway, it wouldn’t be … wise.”  
Oh? A medical reason, perhaps? He had always wondered if it might be a bit dangerous for her to give birth, given the history of her family. “How so?” The dark quietness of the park made him feel free to ask, and anyway, he didn’t want to beat around the bush. They only had tonight.  
“Andrew says … well, my husband believes it’s unwise for us to fill a house with children that I can’t … that I can’t take care of.” She forced those last words out, and the tightness in her voice said it was a sore subject.  
“Wha’ does tha’ man mean? O’ course ye can take care o’ them.” He raised his eyebrows. “Ye must make a wonderful mother. Ye’ve th’ tenderness for it, an’ ye’re no’ an idiot—ye can learn wha’ ye dinna ken. Aye, ye could do. Ye have done it!”  
“I … well, the servants handle things well now.” She looked down at her hands, which were resting in her lap. He could see them trembling. “Andrew says I’m not to worry about it.”  
Did he now? Jordy’s chest tightened. The poor dear—Ivy wasn’t the type to bring babies into the world and then leave them to a nanny. Though her husband might believe this is what an upper class lady like her would expect—and more than that, all she could handle—it couldn’t be true in the slightest.  
“Ye should fire th’ nannies. Give it a try. What else have ye tae do?”  
Ivy blinked. “Andrew wants me to manage … you know. Social things.”  
“Aye, but ye’re no’ suited for tha’, an’ anyway, he canna have much for ye tae do. Do it after ye’ve tended tae yer children. Ye can do both. Maybe keep one o’ th’ nannies tae help ye learn an’ tae watch them when ye’re busy, but for heavens sake, Vee, dinna let them cheat ye out o’ motherhood. What does Mr. Graham expect?”  
“I … I couldn’t do that.”  
“Well, give it some thought.”  
A bit of a silence. “I will.”  
He glanced sideways at her again. Her shoulders were squared; it was clear she would give it some thought, and he believed that in the end her mother instinct would win out.  
“But then …” She raised her blue eyes to his, and with that little turn, she was too close. He slid a bit further down the bench, and she flushed.  
“Dinna mind—go on.”  
“I know that Andrew only put the nannies in place to keep me safe. He does that, you know … he keeps me safe.” She swallowed. “That’s … that’s why I married him. Because I knew it would be … safe. And it has been. Very safe.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “He thinks of me as a porcelain doll, I think, and he doesn’t understand always what it means to be me … that I’m not … a child.”  
If Graham thought Ivy was a child, why bother marrying her? Was the pretty face, the dowery, the name enough? It must’ve been.  
“I thought he’d be a bit more affectionate, too.” Again, the words seemed to stumble out before she could stop them. “It’s not that he’s … well, he’s very nice to me, I’m sure, it’s just that …” Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head.  
“Tell me.”  
“No, I can’t.” She sighed. “Why did you marry … Amelia.”  
Mila? Oh, for so many reasons. “She was … she was a woman who I met … no’ so very long after … th’ last time I saw ye. An’ we … we got on, an’ after a bit, it made sense. We wanted th’ same things.” She’d been beautiful and vivacious, too, but he didn’t tell Ivy that. He wasn’t sure how his heart had attached to the woman so fast, but it had. Perhaps something to do with the sting of rejection leaving an open wound that just needed covered … he wasn’t sure, though. “She was an adventurous soul, an’ she pushed me.”  
“Oh.” Ivy nodded. “I suppose it must’ve been nice to be with someone adventurous.”  
“Aye.” He swallowed. “She wanted me tae give lectures in London an’ other places. She loved tae travel. An’ we did—she came with me, brought th’ children, an’ kept me at it. But she … perhaps ye heard tha’ she took ill with a fever. She died in me arms, no’ two days after th’ first signs o’ the illness. It was … it was so sudden.” And it had broken him for so long.  
“I see.” Ivy nodded slowly. “I … I knew of those lectures. I couldn’t go see them. I was in Kent then. We went … we went to London a year later. That’s when Andrew and I …” She sighed. “Papa knew him. Through business of some sort, and after we’d talked for a bit, it just … he was looking for a wife, and I … didn’t have anything else … and it was secure. My parents won’t be around forever, and there’s a point at which I would be more burden than anything …”  
“Right.” That made sense. It wasn’t like Ivy to make a decision mostly based on sense and not much on sensibility, but he supposed she’d grown up, same as him. “But ye came tae love him, didna ye?”  
She shrugged.  
He blinked. She shrugged? That didn’t make sense. “Ye do love him, dinna ye?”  
She jerked as if stung by a bee and quickly nodded. “Yes, yes, I do. Of course I do.”  
Something was wrong in her marriage then? Oh, bloody bullocks. “But there is … perhaps it is …” He wasn’t sure how to phrase it, but perhaps it was a bit more of a calm marriage. He knew couples who had survived with affection as their main motivator and not passion.  
Though it didn’t sound fun.  
“It’s just that …” She seemed to struggle for words, every half-phrase speaking of frustration. “It’s just that since we decided not to have more children, we decided … well, he decided … but even before that, nothing was the way I thought it would be, but then I didn’t know … I just wish it were a bit more … more.”  
“Oh.” Jordy’s mind scrambled to piece together the fragments. It seemed like something was rotten in the state of Denmark, and it was hurting this darling woman, and there was nothing he could do to get her out of it.  
Well, there were a few things he could do, but none were practical.  
“Have ye … talked about this?”  
She dropped her face in her hands. Hardly the reaction he’d expected. But then she shook her head. “I … I don’t think it’s my place.”  
Well, then, whose place was it? “I think it is, Vee. I think ye need tae tell him what ye feel.”  
“I couldn’t,” she mumbled. “It’s not … it’s just that women don’t … I mean, they’re not supposed to …”  
Bloody British. “It doesna matter for a moment what ye are supposed tae do or no’ supposed tae do as far as society is concerned. Fight for it, Vee.”  
Again, she shook her head, and he didn’t know what else to say to her. How to make this right.  
So he sat in silence and thought about the mistakes he’d made and tried to think how he could help her, make her life even a bit easier.  
Nothing came to mind. Nothing that wouldn’t ruin her forever. And he didn’t want to ruin her, though the idea kept flickering into his mind.  
She was vulnerable. He hadn’t known when the evening begun how vulnerable. And for honor’s sake, he could not play with her emotions—not when they were already so unstable.  
Not that that had ever been his intention. Just that that was an inevitable result of his version of “a bit of fun.”  
“I should take ye home,” he said quietly. “I dinna want ye tae be tae missed.”  
She jerked out a nod and rose. He wished he had a handkerchief on him, but he never carried the things.  
They walked back to her house, and he led her up the steps. Her fingers twisted around the doorknob, and despite his intentions, he couldn’t resist the thought.  
“Vee, wait.”  
She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”  
“Kiss me goodbye.”  
It was like lightning went off, or a switch was flicked, or something. Her whole face went livid.  
“How dare you,” she whispered, her eyes livid. “How dare you.”  
He blinked. Well, he’d expected shock, perhaps a tinge of righteous indignation, but not anger. Not from her. “I only thought—”  
“I don’t care what you thought. You will never convince me to … how dare you? It’s been fifteen years, Jordy McAllen, and I wasn’t even given the consideration due to a friend. You said you loved me, and you let me go. I almost wanted to be chased. I’m glad you didn’t, in hindsight, but … how dare you? After not asking for me once? I agonized over you, loved you, longed for you. And you married within two years—less than that, even! You never loved me, and you will never tempt me away from the life I have created in spite of you.”  
She opened the door then, stepped through, and it was slammed unceremoniously in his face.  
He stood there a moment, shocked, then turned and walked down the street.

*****

“Ivy!” Never before had her name sounded so strained, so emotional. “Ivy, where have you been?”  
Ivy turned to face Andrew, who rushed across the foyer toward her. “Darling, don’t say another word.” She glanced past him to the confused, worried faces of their guests who were filling the entryway to the drawing room. “I need to speak with your privately. Please. Trust me.”  
He hesitated then nodded. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’d wait a moment, I must have a word with my wife.”  
The guests backed into the room, and he led her across the hall to his study.  
“Where were you? You went missing for half an hour, and I … well, I remembered that you’d mentioned you and Dr. McAllen were … close … and I didn’t know …” He panted out the words, more flustered than she’d ever seen before.  
Yet she couldn’t help but admire him. It was clear that he’d wondered about her connection with Jordy, yet it wasn’t jealousy that tinged his tone—there was protectiveness, yes, and possession, but it was mostly worry.  
Because he knew she would be faithful. Because he didn’t, for a moment, doubt her fidelity.  
She could rest more fully in that trust than in anything in the world. She took his hands and held them securely in hers.  
“Let me say this before you speak, Andrew. Dr. McAllen and I did leave together—I needed to see … I needed to see what he was like after all these years. We walked down the block and back. And he asked to kiss me goodnight when he walked me back to the door, but I … I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I might’ve told him more about … about my life than I should’ve. But I needed to tell someone. And the truth is … even though he would ask me to betray you, he still knew something about me, and that is that … I do not ask for happiness if it doesn’t come naturally.”  
His brows lowered. “I see.”  
“Andrew, this isn’t a marriage we have here! It’s … it’s a friendship, and not a very good one at that. I need more from you than your security and your trust. I need you to love me. And I need you to believe in me—as a mother, as a woman. As … as a musician.”  
“You … you’re very talented. You’re better than me, I know.”  
“See? When was the last time you told me that.” She sighed but pressed on. “Can this be our starting over place? Can Jordy McAllen show us that we need passion and risk and maybe a bit more understanding of each other?”  
“I … I suppose.” He cocked his head. “You want … passion?” His arched eyebrows spoke of disapproval, of not even being entirely sure what she did want, and she wanted to back down.  
But there was a little adrenaline left in her still.  
“Yes. And I’m sure we can discover it. And we could be friends, too. We have a lot in common. We both love music.” There was that. She’d forgotten. He’d been so busy for so long. Perhaps someone needed to remind him of the joy of piano keys under his fingertips.  
“And you want to take an active roll with the children.” He cocked his head. “I suppose that’s doable, if you believe you can handle it.”  
“I … I know I can. Andrew, please don’t keep me from them. Sometimes it feels like they’re all I have.”  
He looked a little offended then. “What about me?”  
What about him? Was he truly that clueless as to what it took to maintain a relationship? “I love you very much, but I don’t know that you love me.”  
“Of course I love you.”  
Then show me. “All right. Then we’ve just got to remember to work on … on each other. You can …” Her mind spun as she searched for the right example. “You can make appointments with me, as you would with any of those men waiting for us in the parlor. Actually, I rather like that.” It was safe, and she needed him to be safe as much now as ever. “Appointments. And we can spend time with the children … you never spend time with the children.”  
He turned red. “I mean to. Time gets away from me.”  
“I know, darling. It gets away from me, too.” She squeezed his hands. “But not anymore. Please. Promise me.”  
He took a deep breath. “Very well. I promise. We can work on … all that you’ve mentioned. You say that … the McAllen chap … tried to kiss you?” The jealousy did show up then. After all, he was only human.  
“He asked. I said no.” She repeated it slowly because it seemed that that was a sticking point with him. She supposed it would be with any man. “I don’t know if this is important or not, but to be completely honest, about fifteen years ago, we kissed twice. The first time I kissed him as an act of gratitude—the second time it was …” Better than anything I’ve ever experienced with you. “He initiated the second time.”  
“I see. That was a long time ago, though.”  
“Yes. It was.” But I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop wanting it to be more like that when you kiss me.  
Come to think of it, it wasn’t really fair to keep him unaware of that, either. “I … I think of it sometimes. I felt something very special with him, that second time, and I … I wish we had that. I think we could, possibly, if we … we spent a bit more time together.” She wasn’t sure how to explain her thoughts, but she was sure she could show him. He’d only have to be willing.  
Again, he nodded. “I admit that one is a bit of a blow to my pride. We’ve been married almost nine years, Ivy. Your second kiss with that Scotsman was … was better than anything I’ve given you? What … what did you let him do to you?” She could see that he would be angry if she went much further now—trust could only go as far as there was no sin to be found.  
“It was only a kiss. He didn’t touch me other than that. It was just that the feelings I felt for me made it better. And it was a bit awkward, too. It’s not awkward when you touch me … it’s just …” Boring. She always found her mind wondering. She’d written musical pieces in her head while in his arms. But that was cruel to say. “I never feel a need to be in the moment with you. I always find myself a thousand miles away. It’s not personal enough—I don’t feel like you really want me beyond to do what is necessary. And you must confess that … it’s been a long time. Even if we choose to avoid having more children, we could still … I know enough about my own body to at least leave some room for the marriage bed while being careful.”  
“Hmm.” He didn’t seem too pleased to hear any of this, as his face had gotten progressively more sour. But he was still here. “Well, I’ll act on this at my earliest convenience, but now we have guests to attend to.” He bent forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. A quick peck, but he lingered close. “I do want you, you know. You’re quite lovely, and you’re constantly doing things that make me want you more. Your … your smile, and your … way of working in the garden, and the way you speak to the servants, it’s …” With typical British enthusiasm, he reigned himself in. “Could we speak on these matters later?”  
Despite his stoic face and manners, the hope in her breast soared. He was a man of his word. He would at least try to do as she’d asked. “Yes. We could.”  
“Let’s return to our guests.”  
He was right. She’d pushed him far enough for now. But she couldn’t leave without sealing their bargain. She pulled him into a hug, and she was surprised when he didn’t stiffen, didn’t draw back—he simply put his arms around her and hugged her back.  
“I’m sorry, but I’m glad you told me the truth,” he whispered.  
“I’m glad, too.”  
They walked out of the study together. By the time they arrived in the parlor, Andrew had already formulated excuses for the guests, who were soon satiated.  
And Ivy threw herself into doing what Andrew asked of her in this marriage—the socializing, the little laughs and the feigned interest in topics she didn’t understand.  
For she knew that this was one piece of a puzzle. This was the Ivy he needed tonight—but he would also need the Ivy who was the mother to his children. And the Ivy who coaxed him away from his work. And the Ivy who tempted him to do more than “want her” from a distance.  
She could make those Ivys all be her, and if Andrew didn’t like it, she could push him again, until he understood that she must be allowed to breathe, to try, to fail.  
But nor could Andrew let her dwell in the past. She must be honest about her feelings and his lapses in attention and encourage him to make her forget Jordy McAllen ever had existed.  
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard after all.


End file.
